


Funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crowley likes Zira, Fallin in Love, I love these guys (squishes them), It's a fic dump, Sex scenes be sizzlin, Special appearance by Oscar Wilde and his husband, What are they gonna do about it?, Zira likes Crowley, finished work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: Zira wasn't looking for an affair, especially not with his boss' flash new husband. Although there's something a little off about their marriage...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 139





	Funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one

Zira stared down at the party from the balcony, a half-drank martini balanced between two trembling fingers. He’d never been very good at small talk though it ate up the majority of his time at the ad agency. Now he was hiding away reclusively to avoid more of the same. It was a company party, after all.

His boss had rented out a stunning location which, in a nod to the roaring twenties, mimicked the stylings of Gatsby’s mega-mansion. Gabriel had always been ostentatious, and this was another excuse to wow their millionaire clients and potential accounts.

For his part, Zira had never meant to end up in ad writing. His literary forays had bent toward editing, transcription, or perhaps teaching at a university. But he’d stumbled into a position that paid well and offered security, so he stayed on long after he should have left. He was loyal that way, if not unadventurous, overall.

He was brooding about this when a soft voice interrupted.

“Oh!” it said in surprise.

Zira turned around with one eyebrow up. It was followed immediately by its partner. Zira gazed, rather than looked at the man who’d disturbed him, though he’d be the first to deny any negative effects of his sudden appearance.

“Terribly sorry,” the man apologized, “Was trying to escape the madding crowd.” His mouth twisted into a half-smile and Zira felt the world spinning on its axis.

He took in the bright red hair swept back from the man’s face, his gold-imbued eyes that tracked his own like a falcon, the subtle jut of his lower lip which begged to be bitten...and he couldn’t stop the following line spilling forth.

“Men thin away to insignificance and oblivion quite as often by not making the most of good spirits when they have them as by lacking good spirits when they are indispensable.”

The redhead blinked once before laughing in delight, and the sound echoed in Zira’s chest. “You know your Hardy!” he replied. “Artfully put, if not the most cheerful fellow.” He moved closer and leaned on the balustrade next to the blonde. Zira focused his eyes on the throng below and ignored his reddening cheeks.

“I loathe these things,” the redhead admitted wryly. “No one interesting to talk to usually.” Zira could feel his eyes on him and turned his head.

“Usually,” the blonde agreed. He sipped at the last of his martini and closed his eyes, chasing the flavor.

“What brings you here?” the stranger asked. “You don’t strike me as a corporate drone.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” Zira answered. “I’m just another in the rank and file.”

“Yet particularly well-read,” the man countered. Zira paused, realizing that he’d moved closer to the redhead, or perhaps it was the other way around.

“I write,” Zira explained. “For work, that is.”

“Not for pleasure?” the redhead asked.

“I can’t imagine who would read it if I did,” Zira said dryly. He’d wanted to make the man laugh but it seemed to invoke the opposite effect. The redhead straightened and looked down his nose at the blonde.

“I would,” the stranger said defiantly, as if they’d been friends for thousands of years and Zira had earned his protection. Such a funny thought.

Zira’s voice veered toward flirtation, “As if I’d deny you.” The words weighed heavier than he’d intended, but he didn’t scrabble to retrieve them the way he normally would. Instead, he stared into those golden eyes, waiting for them to blink. They didn’t.

“Ah! There you are!” Gabriel’s voice broke through the tension like a knife. Zira straightened up rigidly, teeth clenched. He wasn’t used to being informally addressed, or addressed at all for that matter, by his boss. Unfortunately…

Gabriel’s arms went around the redhead. “I see you’ve met…” He batted his eyes at the blonde cluelessly.

“Zira,” he found himself saying. As if he hadn’t introduced himself to the higher-up a few hundred times.

“Of course,” Gabriel laughed. “I’ve had a bit to drink. Darling…” He turned his attention back to the man in his arms, voice lowering. “I thought you would see to the Campbells? Remember how I mentioned they’re our VIPs this evening?”

“Oh, yeah,” the redhead sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. It was then that Zira saw the ring he must have blocked out subconsciously. A shining gold band with a single inlaid diamond. The blonde deflated.

“Crowley...what am I going to do with you?” Gabriel reprimanded. “Off you go, now.” He blinked at the redhead who cringed before shuffling away.

“Nice to meet you Zira,” he called over his shoulder.

The blonde nodded numbly.

“I should get going as well,” Gabriel said. “We’ll catch up another time. You can tell me all about the exciting developments in accounting.” He turned on his heel, leaving Zira to seethe at the floor, realizations smacking him in the face from every direction.

Gabriel fucking Archangel had gotten married earlier in the year, as he recalled. Crowley was his boss’s husband. A dull blade twisted in his gut. Of course. Of course. Of course.

-

Zira stayed hidden on the balcony for most of the night, watching events unfold below. Occasionally he’d catch sight of Crowley and Gabriel navigating through the crowd, a dynamic duo. Crowley was good at playing his part, making jokes when Gabriel seemed to falter, or finding ways to make their clients feel at ease. He was charming in all the right places. Next to him, Gabriel looked more robotic than ever.

Every once in a while, the redhead’s eyes would shift up toward Zira, as if confirming his existence. Like he was checking in, Zira thought daftly. Why would he even care? Anyone married to Gabriel had to be rubbish, anyways, he reminded himself. He shouldn’t desire his good opinion, or anything else for that matter. He shouldn’t admire the man’s sensuous smile or the arch of his neck when he laughed. It was preposterous.

Zira nursed a second martini until he thought he’d served his sentence, making toward the exit like a moth following a flame. He’d nearly made it when a warm hand closed over his own and yanked him into a secluded alcove. It was Crowley.

The man’s face was flushed as he giggled profusely. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Couldn’t resist! I saw you leaving and I just wanted to say…” His mouth opened and closed a few times as if he’d forgotten. “How nice it was to meet you!”

Zira smiled despite himself. The man was obviously quite drunk. “You as well, Crowley. I hope you enjoyed your evening.”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he nodded quickly. “I did! I um...at least earlier. When I met you. Everyone else is so boring.” He performed an exaggerated eye roll to solidify his point.

Zira flushed. He desperately wanted to know why the redhead had settled for Gabriel, but it would be beyond rude to ask. Instead, he merely said, “I’d no idea you were married to my boss.”

The redhead blinked and looked past him for a moment. Gabriel was currently mingling amongst his guests. “I think it was also Hardy who said ‘all romances end at marriage,’ or some such,” Crowley remarked bleakly. He regained eye contact with the blonde and smiled despite himself. “Maybe we’ll meet again. Talk proper literature...or...or whatever you’d like.”

In Crowley’s face, Zira saw sadness and hope in equal measures. The redhead reached out a hand and Zira was unable to refuse it, grasping it lightly. “That sounds lovely,” he affirmed. He squeezed Crowley’s hand and turned to leave, redirecting his brain from thinking any more of it lest some dangerous idea emerge. He had no time for fantasies or wishful thinking, given the situation. And not even a pair of golden eyes could sway him from the plan.

-

The plan, as Zira like to call it, essentially consisted of working for Gabriel until retirement, at which point he would finally follow his own heart and open up a bookshop. He’d been avidly collecting rare manuscripts since he’d first drawn a paycheck, and now boasted over five hundred titles to his name. His small flat could barely accommodate them, but somehow he managed.

This didn’t stop him from seeking out book fairs and auctions in the meantime though. He was constantly scouring new selections during his lunch breaks, and typically planned his weekends around various sales in London, or even as far as Paris. It was there that he encountered the comely redhead once more, not two weeks after their first meeting.

“Zira?” a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. He pried himself away from the inspection of an antique scroll and came face to face with Crowley Archangel.

The man had a slight sunburn over his cheeks, made more apparent in contrast with the dark sunglasses he wore. It brought out more than a few natural freckles, which were lovelier than they had any right to be.

“Well, hello!” the blonde said in a strangled voice. “Fancy seeing you here!” He couldn’t help allowing his eyes to search the perimeter. Gabriel was probably nearby.

Crowley followed his less-than-subtle scan and cracked a smile. “Don’t worry,” he reported. “Your boss is at home in London. I’m visiting for the weekend.”

“Oh!” Zira said a little too happily. “And I suppose you saw the sale, as I did.”

Crowley nodded, holding out a few books that had been balanced on his hip. “Have you found anything tempting?” he asked, and Zira didn’t miss the way his tongue slid to the corner of his mouth.

“Umm,” Zira stalled. “More than I’d bargained for,” he replied, consciously noting that he wasn’t referring to the book sale at all. “A bit too pricey for me, though,” he concluded. His eyes darted to Crowley’s and back down again. This was not good. He needed an escape route.

“All this shopping has left me famished,” he segued, feeling particularly proud of himself.

“What a coincidence!” Crowley followed. Zira’s heart skipped. “I’m starving. Perhaps we could go together. Grab a bite.”

Zira resisted the urge to wipe at his brow. This was not a good idea at all. So why was he suddenly nodding and holding out his hand to indicate that Crowley lead the way? He groaned internally. Here they were in the world’s most romantic city, unchaperoned, and with far too much in common. There was no way this would end well.

-

Crowley’s arms were up, imitating a great bird as he leaned against the guardrail on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. They’d imbibed quite a bit of wine during lunch, which might explain why the sun was sinking at such an early hour.

“The poetry of motion is a phrase much in use, and to enjoy the epic form of that gratification it is nec...necessary to stand on a hill at a small hour of the night and um...and…” Crowley was bellowing more Hardy, or at least attempting to.

“Something about mankind?” Zira filled in, his chin slipping off of his hand a few times.

“Right!” Crowley rejoined. “Who are wrapped in dreams, or something, and watch the stars...do something. And to believe...to believe that the consciousness of such majestic speeding is derived from a tiny human frame!” He looked enormously pleased with himself for finishing the lines, and Zira applauded him as if he’d just finished Hamlet solo.

“Amazing!” the blonde hiccupped.

Crowley let out a bark of laughter and bowed, stumbling a bit.

“It’s cold!” Zira complained, trying to draw his thin coat tighter around him. “Too much wind! Can’t we find you a warmer venue?”

“Bah!” Crowley objected, but proceeded toward the stairwell anyways. “Just need more wine!”

“I think that’s a patently awful idea!” Zira scowled. “I counted two bottles earlier. Or was it three?”

“Not enough,” the redhead answered.

They came down the stairs and headed toward the Seine arm in arm. Suddenly Zira began to giggle, and Crowley grew annoyed that he’d been left out on the joke.

“What?” he demanded, jabbing Zira in the ribs.

“N-nothing,” the blonde returned, trying to hide his chuckling.

“Seriously. I’ll push you in the river. They’ll never find your body,” Crowley threatened.

“Ohh no,” Zira protested. “You’ll be angry. You won’t like it if I tell you.”

“Angry at you?” Crowley pouted. “How is that possible? Now tell me before you end up in a watery grave.”

“Oh I…” Zira burst into a fresh fit of giggles and sighed. “Just you and Gabriel.”

Crowley looked a little miffed. “What of it?”

“That’s it!” Zira laughed, holding his sides. “That’s the joke!”

“Oi!” Crowley groused. They were halfway across the Pont d’Iéna and Zira had already started to run, attempting to cross to the other side before Crowley made good on his threat.

“That’s rude!” the redhead called after him. Growing irritated, he sped up, intending to catch his saucy comrade. Zira wasn’t particularly fast, making it easier than he’d anticipated. Crowley reached out, pinning the blonde’s arms to his body like a penguin.

“Woohohoho!” Zira huffed, trying to reign himself in. Crowley hung onto him, and realizing how much warmer two bodies were, persisted a little longer than was necessary. He only let him go when Zira stiffened and grew quiet.

“What?” Crowley asked, his own voice sobering.

Zira sniffed, turning his high-wattage blues on the redhead. “How does that happen?” he asked. “I mean...if he were anyone else...”

“Anyone?” Crowley echoed. He looked down and saw that their feet were perfectly aligned, like parallel tracks going on forever.

Zira shrugged, his mouth almost a half smile. “I don’t know.”

Crowley stepped forward, just enough to mirror Zira better. A stranger walking by might think they were lovers at that proximity.

“Don’t you?” Crowley found the words had left his mouth without express permission. And now the invisible line that had been there all along was visible.

The blonde sniffed, his eyes moving up to the early night stars dancing overhead. “I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. Van Gogh, of course. These are his stars. Ones he painted over and over again.”

“Ergk…” Crowley suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he shoved them in his pockets.

Zira closed his eyes, breathing in the cool air, and if he didn’t see what was coming at all, the more fool him.

Crowley didn’t overthink it, but closed the short distance between them and pressed his lips to the blonde’s. The kiss was so quick and chaste that it could have been easily forgiven. Too much wine. Too much Paris. A sunset over the Seine by the Eiffel Tower? Now whose fault was that? But Zira opened his eyes as Crowley drew back, and sealed his fate on sight.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, and chased after the redhead’s lips with everything he had. 

-

They crashed into Zira’s hotel room, mouths locked on earlobes, necks, deliciously exposed skin that had been hiding under scarves. They were a flurry of hands and legs entangling, tripping over one another to get to the bed.

“How do you like it?” the blonde demanded, helping Crowley yank off his cashmere sweater and fumbling with his belt.

“Any way, anything,” Crowley breathed out. “With you.”

Zira found the redhead’s belt and made short work of it. “Now’s not the time to be shy,” he whispered. He’d pulled off Crowley’s trousers and drew down his own.

The redhead nodded and flipped over, presenting himself. “Fuck me then,” he mewled, and Zira obliged him, digging greedy fingers into his bony hips. He didn’t even have time to hate himself, not buried to the hilt while Crowley whimpered for every thrust. No, it was too exquisite, exactly how he knew it would be. So rallying against the harsh reality of morning, he made it last all night.

-

Zira’s eyes opened blearily. He’d had perhaps a good hour or two of sleep if he was lucky. Crowley was already gone, the scent of coffee heavy in the room. He must have made some in the single serve on the desk before he left. Had he all but run from the room, once he realized what he’d done?

Zira groaned at the thought, but arched his back when it rolled over a pad of hotel stationary. A message was scribbled in all caps.

‘Don’t say you regret it.’

Zira smiled despite himself, one arm moving up to rest behind his head. He didn’t.

-

Gabriel was sniffing around Zira’s office. He walked back and forth in the hall near the doorway, but never crossed the threshold, like a vampire somewhat. Every time Zira spotted his slicked-back hair his blood pressure skyrocketed. Something would shift like a loose Jenga tile in his guilty conscience. He knows. He knows. He knows!

But of course he didn’t know. In fact, he finally sailed into Zira’s office just as the blonde was preparing to leave for the day.

“Oh...Zira!” Gabriel said brightly, miraculously remembering his name. “I just wanted to extend an invitation. My husband and I are hosting a little dinner party this weekend and we’d love you to come.” His teeth looked gritted together even though he pronounced every word with a flourish.

“You did?” Zira didn’t try to hide his surprise. This was highly unusual.

“Well it seems you made quite an impression on Crowley…”

There it was. Possessiveness around the edges. “Did I?” the blonde asked. “I’m surprised. We haven’t spoken at length.”

“Be that as it may, he mentioned your name,” Gabriel smiled placidly. “And who am I to upset my darling husband? You’ll bring your significant other, of course.”

Zira nodded, allowing the words to echo in his head. He hadn’t seen anyone seriously in years. “We’d love to.”

“Perfect! Saturday at 7:00. My secretary will supply the address. See you then!” Gabriel’s self-pleased look seemed to indicate he knew the blonde was single...or maybe that was Zira on the defensive. Either way.

-

“You need me to pretend to be your boyfriend?” Oscar asked, looking amused.

“Yes!” Zira hissed. “Just this once, I swear.”

“I’ll have to ask Alfred, of course,” Oscar teased, referring to his long-time partner.

Zira rolled his eyes. “You’re torturing me on purpose.”

“Obviously!” Oscar replied. “What else are friends for?”

-

The dinner party was as flamboyant as any other event hosted by his boss, but this time it was on his home turf. Zira tried hard not to ogle at the mansion, it’s amazingly tended lawn, or the priceless cars sitting in the drive. Was being married to Gabriel really worth it all?

He felt uncomfortable as he entered the home, even with Oscar on his arm. He immediately clamped eyes on Crowley and the redhead stopped what he was doing as if time itself had frozen. Zira could see a flash of recognition, desire, guilt, and then...was that jealousy? He hardly had cause to be.

Zira nodded his way and went to greet Gabriel, who was more than affable once he saw the blonde was being escorted. Oscar played his part well, fawning over Zira’s bow tie and pouring compliments over the host like strawberries in a chocolate fountain. Gabriel, Zira noticed, ate up every bit of it.

Since he was occupied, Zira took the opportunity to walk around the home, his gaze captured by an infinity pool that spanned the length of the house outside. He stepped up to the wall of glass, admiring the view. The city lights twinkled in the distance, making the water look like the edge of the world.

“Stunning,” a familiar voice purred in his ear.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Zira admitted, turning to smile at the redhead.

He was dressed impeccably, wrapped in a skintight black suit that seemed to scream bad boy as much as elegant nonchalance.

“I wasn’t talking about the pool,” Crowley frowned. His eyes scanned up and down the blonde appreciatively, and Zira blushed.

“Why in the world did you want me here?” Zira asked softly. “I’m feeling a bit...flustered being around your husband. Who’s my boss, in case you forgot.”

“But you brought backup,” Crowley pouted. He cast a weary glance at Zira’s date. “He doesn’t look your type.”

“I’m not interested in playing games with you,” Zira censored, turning resolutely back to the yard. He felt a tug on his wrist and Crowley’s fingers tightening over it.

“I’m not playing games. Believe me,” the redhead whispered. “I missed you. I’ve been trying to contrive over a thousand scenarios where I get to see you again.”

“And yet you failed to conceive of the most obvious one? You could have left your number...or found mine fairly easily-” Zira broke off, noticing a party guest drawing a little too close for comfort before wandering off.

Crowley was silent for a moment. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. Could’ve been a one-time thing.” He looked down at his shoes and Armani leather had never seemed so insufficient.

“Fff,” Zira huffed.

“I’m serious,” the redhead said adamantly. “It’s not conventional...our situation.”

“Our situation?” Zira asked with distaste. “Ah. You mean I, the Romeo, you, the snake in the garden, and Gabriel...the cuckolded husband?”

Crowley sighed deeply and turned away from the blonde, staring back at the party. “If you don’t feel the same as I do...no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’d rather dream of you wanting me.”

Zira sucked in the air between his teeth and watched Crowley’s reflection fade in the glass. Oscar approached from behind, startling his friend.

“Fuck me,” he purred. “Is that him?”

Zira rolled his eyes. “Wish I’d never admitted a thing to you.”

“And deny me my fun?” Oscar wrapped his arm around Zira’s waist. “Come now. I believe dinner is about to be served.”

The meal wasn’t a disaster as far as everyone but two people were concerned. The conversation flowed easily. The food was delightful. It was only if you reached your hand across the table between two pairs of heated eyes you were in danger of having that limb severed from sheer mood. Luckily, nobody wanted the butter.

Crowley’s gaze darted up and back again haphazardly no matter how much Zira tried to ignore him. He already felt like he’d narrowly escaped Gabriel’s attention and didn’t thank any renewed efforts for it to return. As soon as it was polite, the blonde excused himself from the table, stepping outside for a breath of fresh air.

The infinity pool was even more beautiful in person, as was the rest of the yard. He’d barely managed to set a foot on the path leading further into the garden when a hand brushed against his own.

“This way,” Crowley hissed.

Zira was compelled to follow him, ducking around a few low hanging branches until they reached a clearing beyond the trees. The blonde peered around, anxious that they might be seen. When his eyes landed back on Crowley, the man looked positively wrecked.

“Please,” the redhead begged, his eyes wide and haunted. “Forgive me for being so selfish. I wanted you here. I wanted… I just wanted you.” He was shaking his head back and forth, one hand coming up to cradle the side of Zira’s neck. Something in the blonde snapped.

He shoved Crowley back into the nearest tree, the redhead’s teeth gritting in surprise. Zira’s eyes washed over him, inhaling the scent of him. Some expensive cologne he’d worn in Paris.

“This isn’t going to work, Crowley. It will ruin us both!” Zira threatened, jaw slackening as he pushed the air from his lungs like a weight.

Crowley’s lips opened and he blinked prettily under the moonlight. His eyes belonged to Zira’s lips. “Then ruin me,” he croaked, and how was Zira supposed to resist that?

The blonde dove in, teeth clinking together like wine glasses as they kissed. Zira knew he’d hungered for the redhead, but he still hadn’t expected the immensity of his longing. Crowley writhed under his touch, spurring him on with urgent moans. Suddenly Zira dropped to his knees, heedless of the damp earth. He yanked at Crowley’s belt, drawing him out in desperation before arresting his motion.

“Have you been with him?” Zira asked, eyes darting up from Crowley’s impressive cock.

“What?” Crowley asked from his lust-addled state.

“With Gabriel? Since Paris?” Zira felt a jealous shock reverberate through his bones and his grip tightened.

“Ah!” Crowley gasped, his chin falling down. “No. Only you. You’re all I want. I swear it!” His fingers pulled at the roots of Zira’s hair.

Zira smiled and for a second, the angel holding Crowley’s cock looked like a demon. And then his mouth was too full to tell.

It took everything in Crowley to muffle his cries as Zira worked him, brutal but efficient. Crowley’s hips thrust forward and his fingers tightened in the blonde curls, muscles all over his body clenching with desire.

“Don’t stop,” he begged. “Oh, fuck Zira!”

Zira pulled the redhead’s pants down further so he could cradle Crowley’s balls, savoring the weight of them in his palm. He could feel them beginning to tighten.

“Zira!” Crowley called out, his orgasm nearer than he’d realized, and then he was coming down the back of the blonde’s throat with a shuddering groan, hands flailing at his sides.

Crowley’s head fell back against the tree and his brain didn’t register Zira standing up. All he could process was bliss. But then Zira’s hands were on his flushed cheeks, a gentle kiss bringing him back to life.

Crowley chased after the kiss and shivered. His oversensitive cock was nestled against the warm fabric of Zira’s trousers. He resisted a little when Zira started to pull his own back up, tucking him gently back into his clothing. The truth was, he didn’t want the moment to end.

When they finally did make it back inside, couples were already starting to leave. Zira took advantage of the crowd in the hallway to slip into his long coat, covering his grass-stained knees, but not before receiving a rueful look from Oscar.

“Don’t,” the blonde warned under his breath, but Oscar wasn’t about to be chided. Instead, his gaze slid over to Crowley, noting his kiss-bruised lips and the general disarray of his hair.

“Mm,” Oscar teased. “Guess I missed dessert.”

“Stop it,” Zira censored, but his grin gave him away.

The pair began the long process of their leave taking, thanking Gabriel for being an excellent host in the blur of handshakes and cheek kisses. Zira knew Crowley was standing behind him, and felt a hand dip into his coat pocket surreptitiously. Zira didn’t have the nerve to look back at him.

Oscar managed to direct his friend back to the car, lingering outside the door to wave back at the party. When he settled into the passenger seat Zira was already in the car, his fist tightening around a slip of paper.

“And what would that be?” Oscar asked, eagle-eyed as usual.

“Nothing,” Zira said. ‘Everything,’ Zira thought. Just a collection of numbers that promised much and more. All he wanted for the taking.

-

Zira wasn’t much of a texter, but it seemed safer than a call. What if Gabriel picked up? He stared at his phone which illuminated the otherwise dark room. He’d come this far.

‘Thinking of you,’ he wrote and hit send before he could stop himself.

He’d barely drawn a new breath when the cell vibrated. ‘What about me?’

Zira bit his lower lip as his cock twitched in his pants. He was a fucking wreck after one text.

‘Your literary taste,’ he typed.

‘Cheeky,’ the phone buzzed back. ‘Only want me for my mind.’

‘I do want you,’ Zira wrote. ‘All I do is think of you.’

The phone was silent for a few minutes and then, ‘Address.’

Zira sat up in bed, his mind reeling. Maybe Gabriel was out of town? He didn’t want to ask. Instead he dropped a pin on his Soho flat and held his breath.

‘20 minutes,’ his phone alerted him.

Zira scrubbed a hand through his hair and groaned inwardly. Why did twenty minutes seem like a lifetime?

-

Crowley was sprawled across the bed buck naked. Zira’s body curved on its side, mirror opposite to his partner.

Zira couldn’t help sweeping his eyes over the redhead’s frame. His long limbs, jutting hip bones, the rise and fall of his perfect chest, his coy smile. He could watch him for days.

“I want to know everything about you,” the blonde confessed. His fingers traced up and down Crowley’s thigh.

“Anything,” Crowley replied. “My parents’ names? Where I went to school? My favorite Monty Python skit?”

“More than that, deeper,” Zira clarified. “I want to know what inspires you. What makes you feel alone. How it felt the first time someone kissed you.”

Crowley startled, his eyes piercing into the blonde’s. “You want to know all that?” His cheeks flushed beautifully.

Zira found Crowley’s fingers and bent them at the knuckles. “I want what you’ve never given anyone before,” he said seriously, pulling the man closer to kiss his sideburn.

“You’re a romantic,” Crowley accused, his voice gone soft.

Zira smiled and his eyes sparkled. “I’d write a symphony for you if I had the talent.”

Crowley licked his lips and his face hardened in an inscrutable manner. “Who was that man you brought with you last weekend?”

Zira’s smile faded. “Why? You’ve no right to be jealous.”

“Yet I am,” the redhead admitted, sitting up to look at his lover properly. One leg obscured his manhood from that angle, like a Grecian statue in repose.

Zira wanted to stay angry but he couldn’t. “He’s a friend. Married to another friend. Nothing more.”

Crowley sniffed. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t composing symphonies all over town.”

Zira grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it in the redhead’s face. Crowley pretended to be affronted before grabbing Zira around the middle, pulling him into his embrace. He kissed him soundly and tucked his nose into the delicate skin under the blonde’s ear.

Zira chuckled and shuddered at the tickling sensation, and Crowley resumed his place by the blonde’s side, eyes wide and studious as they tracked down his arm..

“What is this to you?” Zira asked after a long pause.

Crowley shifted and stared into his lover’s eyes. “I don’t know… Something beautiful. Something rare. Ever since I met you I’ve felt lighter somehow. Visible.”

“I see you Crowley,” Zira said gently.

The redhead closed his eyes as if he were savoring the taste of an excellent red. “I know,” he said.

-

Crowley caught a cab home the next morning, yawning into his sleeve as the car pulled up to the mansion. He paid the driver and shuffled like a zombie to the door, not stopping until he’d made it to his bedroom. He collapsed across the bed, barely managing to fish his phone out of his coat pocket. He had three missed texts all from Zira.

Crowley pushed his cheek into the soft pillow, closing his eyes to remember how it felt to be by the blonde’s plush side. He rolled over eventually, shimmying out of his coat to let it fall on the floor. Almost instantaneously there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Crowley called out, his voice sounding rough and worn.

Gabriel peeked through the crack before opening the door halfway. “Hey…” he said softly. “Long night, huh?”

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah.”

Gabriel looked uncomfortable, but then, when did he ever look comfortable? “Cool,” he said nonchalantly. “Great. Um. Hope you had fun.”

“I did,” Crowley replied as he stretched luxuriously. “Just need a kip.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask…” Gabriel began, but the redhead cut him off with the wave of his hand.

“Then don’t,” Crowley laughed. “Not part of the arrangement.”

“Of course,” Gabriel replied, his eyes darting to the ceiling. “Just um...don’t forget we have that thing tonight with the donors.”

“Oh bullocks,” Crowley snorted. “I’ll be there. Bells on and all that. Won’t let you down.”

“Great,” the brunette nodded. “I’ll let you get some rest then.” He ducked out of the room and Crowley squished his body against the comforter. Nothing sounded better at the moment.

-

Zira was working on ad copy trying not to notice as Gabriel lingered next to his office door, this time talking to another colleague. After what happened the last time Gabriel was in proximity, he was slightly concerned. The last thing he needed was another awkward dinner party. He tried not to roll his eyes when his boss finished up his conversation, turning toward Zira as if he’d just remembered something. Fat chance.

“Zira!” Gabriel said a little too loudly. “How are things?”

The blonde geared himself up for useless small talk. “Great!” he replied. “All is well.”

“Wonderful,” Gabriel said distractedly, staring out the small window. And then he did something completely abnormal. He sat down in the chair opposite Zira’s desk. Foot twitching, the brunette seemed to fix a smile on his face before turning to look at his employee.

“And Oscar, was it?” Gabriel asked tersely.

“He’s great,” Zira said, voice wavering. “Tickety boo.”

Gabriel’s smile looked strained. “I shouldn’t… I mean I don’t want to bother you with anything it’s just… You and Crowley are friends, right?”

The blonde fervently wished he’d climbed out that tiny window moments ago to avoid this. “Sort of?” he answered. “We’re friendly, of course.”

“Right,” his boss said thoughtfully. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Zira’s neck.

“Sometimes I wonder what goes through his head,” Gabriel continued absently. “It’s good to know he has people to confide in...if something were wrong. Or for any reason.”

Zira swallowed hard. If only the phone would ring! Anything!

“I know this is silly,” Gabriel sighed. “But I’m going out of town this weekend and I hoped maybe you and Oscar could take Crowley out or something. Keep him busy. Lord knows what he gets up to when I’m not around!”

The blonde coughed and smiled. “S-sure thing Mr. Archangel. We’d love to entertain him.” His tone fell flat at the end, but Gabriel didn’t seem to notice.

“Wonderful!” the brunette said, clapping once. “Then it’s settled. I’ll let him know you’re going to make sure he’s not all cooped up in that big lonely house.”

Zira had run out of words so he continued to smile like a maniac. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Wasn’t it?

-

“And you’re telling me Gabriel actually suggested it?” Crowley’s voice grated, even through the phone.

Zira held his cell against his face late that night. “It’s not something I would joke about,” he said sternly.

“Ha, no,” the redhead replied. “I don’t imagine.”

“Do you think he suspects?” Zira had been dealing with more and more guilt as things progressed, and it was evidently grating on him.

“Zira, angel,” Crowley cooed, his voice turning softer. “That’s the last thing you need to worry about, trust me. It’s not...well that is...it just isn’t, okay?”

Zira sighed. “Why doesn’t that comfort me? He’s my boss, Crowley. I don’t have to tell you that. What do you think bosses do when they find out their employees are having affairs with their spouses? Give them a raise?”

“Don’t you hate your job?” Crowley countered, and he knew already this was a bad direction to go in. He raced toward his next sentence. “I mean...you could open that bookshop and do what you love and-”

“This is for shit,” Zira grumbled. “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. I promised myself we wouldn’t. Or at least, that I wouldn’t bring it up. We are grown adults who know the consequences.”

Crowley was silent on the other end. “Are you saying… Promise me you’re not saying-”

“I’m not saying anything,” Zira huffed, and even from miles away Crowley knew he was doing that thing with his hands. The one where he held them straight up in the air like a conductor. “I mean...I’m not saying that.”

“Okay…” Crowley continued cautiously. “Good. That’s good. So...what are we going to do this weekend?”

Zira could hear the smile in his voice toward the end. He shook his head and cast his eyes to the ceiling. “Whatever you like best,” he answered.

“Oh…” Crowley said contentedly. “Where to begin?”

-

Zira was a little nervous walking into his boss’s home, but it was Crowley’s place too, and he’d promised the staff would be off for the weekend. As expected, the house was quiet when Zira arrived, which was good since Crowley had more than a few things he liked best and apparently, he wanted to do them all right away.

One such activity ended up with the redhead bent over the back of the leather sofa, weeping as Zira lapped between his cheeks. Crowley called the blonde’s name so many times it blurred together, ascending into a broken cry that rattled the windows. When he was finished, Zira stood up and slapped Crowley’s ass, admiring the way the cheeks jiggled.

“Oi,” the redhead warned, but he might as well be a lump of goo for the threat involved.

Zira grabbed Crowley and pulled him onto the sofa properly, wrapping his arms and legs around to hold him tight. He loved the feeling of the redhead in his arms, head lolling to the side in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You’re an absolute mess,” Zira observed. “Hope I didn’t take it out of you.” He kneaded Crowley’s ass and the redhead sighed.

“What number are we on?” Zira followed up.

Crowley mumbled into his chest. “Three? I think four might kill me.” He felt Zira’s cock twitch under his stomach and looked up sharply. “Are you joking?”

The blonde stared him down. “Does it feel like I’m joking?”

Crowley whimpered in the back of his throat and didn’t resist when Zira pulled him up to straddle his plush hips. “Ride me,” the blonde commanded.

Crowley pulled a bottle of lube off the nearby table and coated the blonde with it. “Mm, so thick,” he purred. “I remember the first time so well...but it never fails to surprise me how gorgeous you are.” He began to strain up on his knees but Zira caught his hand.

“Other way,” he demanded. “I’m not done admiring that arse of yours.”

Crowley turned around as instructed, shooting a coy look over his shoulder before lowering down. He gasped on contact.

“That’s good, darling,” Zira encouraged. “Just like that.”

Crowley nodded, biting his lower lip as he sank further down. And soon they were nothing but what their bodies and instincts demanded.

-

After a long shared bath, Crowley finally took Zira to the bedroom. It was much like the rest of the home in its austerity, but little things here and there hinted at the redhead’s personality. Zira ran his hands over everything.

“Vintage rock,” he announced as he held up a record from the pile. “Classical...art,” he cocked an eyebrow as he observed a sculpture of an angel and demon wrestling. He stopped in the corner by the fireplace where an ornate red and gold throne held center stage. “And...god knows,” he finished.

Crowley laughed as he crossed the room, sitting idly in the chair. “Rococo vanity,” he countered, and grabbed the blonde’s hand to pull him onto his lap. Both wore soft cotton bathrobes, complimenting their snuggly moods.

“I see nothing of Gabriel in here,” Zira remarked absently. It was a little odd.

“Ah,” Crowley said carefully. “Perhaps in his room.”

Zira turned around and looked down at the redhead. “His room? Are you suggesting this is your own? That you don’t-”

“Share? No. Never have. Not part of the ar-,” Crowley cut himself off and coughed. “Not our preference I mean.”

Zira stood, slipping easily out of Crowley’s greedy hands. They chased after him and failed, so he leaned forward instead. The blonde sat down on the bed facing him, ankles crossed demurely. “You slept well enough by my side,” he pointed out. “I counted all of your freckles before dawn last Saturday.”

Crowley blushed at the thought of Zira’s admiring eyes on him. “Yes well...I like sleeping with you. Feels cozy. Safe.”

“It doesn’t with him?” Zira ventured, arms crossing.

“No...I mean I don’t feel unsafe with Gabriel,” Crowley scoffed. “We just don’t...we’re not like that together.” He cut himself off and stared at the floor, a thumbnail finding its way between his teeth.

Zira was even more confused than before. Was Crowley trapped in a loveless marriage? He and Gabriel had only been together for less than a year. In fact, he tried to remember even hearing about Crowley before the wedding, but couldn’t recall. Had the pair even properly dated?

Crowley seemed to sense Zira calculating in his head and moved to distract him. Within seconds he closed the gap between them and pinned the blonde to the bed. “It will never be like that between us,” he said, his eyes wide and pleading.

“My dear,” Zira protested, but Crowley tightened his grip on the blonde’s wrists.

“I mean it,” the redhead demanded. “I will cherish you, angel, even if...even if you leave me. I’ve never felt this way before.” Crowley looked conflicted at his own revelation, but Zira urged him closer.

“Come lay here in my arms,” Zira instructed, and Crowley obeyed. His hands relaxed and he allowed the blonde to stroke his cheek. “When I’m not holding you I dream about holding you. When I get you in my arms I only want you closer. I promise that out of the two of us, I’m the one in danger of a broken heart.”

Crowley snuffled into the opening of Zira’s robe, rubbing his nose against his bare chest. “How can you say that?”

“Because darling, at any time you might decide to put this fantasy aside and focus on your marriage. Your vows. The promises you and Gabriel made to each other. How can anyone compete with that?” Zira’s fingers played up and down Crowley’s arms. “I might be a distraction and nothing more.”

“Is that the only obstacle you see?” Crowley asked breathlessly, resting his chin on Zira’s chest. “I mean...if not for Gabriel...if he wasn’t in the picture you’d be with me still?”

The blonde smiled down at him. “I know how I feel about you,” he answered, tucking a strand of red hair behind one ear. “And I want to enjoy being with you. Any way that I can.”

Crowley didn’t press him further, but rested his head on the gentle rise and fall of Zira’s chest. Underneath skin and bones, he could feel the steadiness of his heartbeat.

-

Zira didn’t want to admit it to himself as he daydreamed at his desk or stared forlornly into the dark corners of his flat. He ached for a handful of stolen moments when he and Crowley could be together, and tried to fill in all the listless time between as if it didn’t matter.

There was never enough time, even over a long weekend. He wanted all the hours of the day to tangle his fingers in Crowley’s hair, to feel him arch under him, to hear him whisper some secret he’d never said to anyone before. Not even his husband.

Zira felt the dull ache become a throb of longing. Even when he had Crowley he didn’t have him. Selfishly he thought again and again: it should be his ring on his finger. How was it possible that Gabriel could be losing and winning at the same time?

As the weeks flew by, he tired of waiting at secret rendezvous points. He longed to hold Crowley’s hand in public, to see a film at the cinema the way normal couples did, but Crowley was nothing but discreet. If they weren’t meeting at one another’s homes it was in hourly motel rooms. Nothing so simple as grabbing a drink at the pub or even lingering in a park to feed the ducks. It was like they were on opposite sides of the same coin, never quite meeting in the middle.

Zira tried to keep his anguish to himself, but oftentimes it just slipped out. Like the first night he went to Gabriel’s house, he found his jealousy getting the better of him, especially in bed.

Zira palmed the outline of Crowley’s cock over his trousers, his head resting at waist height as the redhead reclined on the hotel bed.

“I love making you hard,” Zira said low in his throat.

Crowley squirmed under his hand, his fingers flexing in the sheets. He wasn’t allowed to touch so he just watched. Zira leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock where it was making a wet spot on his trousers. “Do you think about me when you’re alone?”

The redhead let out a small gasp on contact and nodded his head, eyes closing. “Always.”

“And what about when you’re with him?”

Crowley’s eyes fluttered open as he looked down at the blonde. Zira’s face was blank even as his hand roved over the length of his partner.

“Don’t do that, my angel.” Crowley pushed up onto his elbows only to find himself squashed back into the pillows.

“Do what?” Zira pouted, his lips crashing down onto his lover’s. His hand made short work of the zip and pants between him and his prize. He pulled out Crowley’s cock and jacked him furiously.

“Oh fuck!” Crowley gasped. Zira’s teeth grazed his neck and bit down hard to claim him.

“You can’t!” Crowley protested, trying to push the blonde away. “No marks!”

Zira was stronger, or else Crowley wasn’t really trying to escape. Zira’s mouth sucked greedily down his collarbone. “What if I want him to see? What if I want everyone to see?”

Crowley was already close to orgasm after an hour of teasing, but the admission cinched any chance he had of holding out. He came gratuitously, coating everything between them. He’d barely taken a breath when Zira climbed up his body and pulled out his own aching cock, stuffing it into the redhead’s mouth. As he fed it to his lover, his other hand shot up to steady himself against the wall. Crowley let out a choked sound of surprise before opening his throat, allowing Zira to take what he wanted. The blonde’s hips thrust forward and fucked Crowley’s face until he found his own release, dribbling from the redhead’s lips as he pulled out.

Zira curled up on the bed, back to his lover. The anger and the jealousy hadn’t abated with orgasm, but only seemed to intensify in the afterglow. Crowley rolled onto his side, hesitantly draping an arm over Zira’s waist.

“Please,” he said tiredly, voice raw. “It isn’t as easy as you think.”

“Is that why you won’t leave him?” Zira snapped. “Because it’s not easy?”

Crowley groaned unhappily and kissed the skin above Zira’s shirt collar. “I wish I could explain it better. I want to be with you. Only with you.”

Zira’s laugh was bitter. “It must be terribly inconvenient to fuck two men at the same time.”

The redhead shot up from the bed, rubbing his face in frustration. “Damn it Zira! You want to know something? Really want to know? You just keep hounding me and trying to make me feel like shit-”

Zira moved onto his back and waved his hands in the air. “Go on! Enlighten me!”

“We haven’t ever!” Crowley shouted. “Okay? Me and Gabriel have never slept together!”

Zira went completely still. “You expect me to believe-”

“Yes, I do, in fact!” Crowley spat. “Because it’s the truth.”

The blonde sat up, trying to gain Crowley’s attention but it was directed stubbornly toward the ceiling. The admission had cost him something, but what exactly, Zira wasn’t sure.

“How does that work exactly…” Zira began, his earlier ire draining out of him.

Crowley snorted. “Fine, actually.” He scrubbed a hand down the back of his neck, scratching at the nape. “I shouldn’t have said. I just don’t want you to be jealous of him. Ever.”

Zira kissed Crowley’s shoulder and cuddled into his side. “Okay,” he relented. But he wondered to himself: was that the only thing he was jealous of?

-

Zira knew there had to be more to the story, but he wished Crowley would elaborate on his own. Perhaps Gabriel was asexual, or else couldn’t perform in the bedroom. The possibilities grew more and more elaborate as Zira speculated, even imagining that the pair had an open marriage of some sort...but wouldn’t Crowley have just said so? More importantly, Zira couldn’t fathom what held the two of them together. Maybe Crowley owed Gabriel something...money? A personal debt? What else could it be?

It also didn’t make sense that Gabriel seemed so possessive of his husband. There had already been flashes of jealousy as far as Zira was concerned, unless his interpretation was off somehow. His confusion about the entire situation was keeping him up at night, he realized. And the guilt hadn’t abated either. Having an affair was emotionally exhausting.  
After a few weeks of sleepless nights, Zira decided that he just couldn’t take it anymore: the hiding, the speculation, the constant fear that Gabriel would find them out. He arranged to meet Crowley at his mansion, hoping to work up the courage to do what he thought was right.

As soon as Zira walked in the doorway, Crowley knew something was off.

Zira sat on the couch with his hands folded tightly on his lap, biting his lip and looking up worriedly at the redhead. Crowley put his hands on his hips, bracing himself. “What is it?” he asked, forcing each syllable out of his mouth.

Zira blinked and tried to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. “You have to get a divorce,” he replied.

Crowley approached his lover like a wild animal, kneeling on the ground before him. “That isn’t possible, my love.”

“Love?” Zira sneered. “You’re bringing that into the equation now?”

Crowley inhaled deeply and pushed the air out of his nose. “I can’t very well leave it out. Not with you.”

The blood drained from Zira’s face as he averted his eyes. “Irrelevant. I’ve asked you to get a divorce and you’ve refused. I guess that’s it then.” He stood to leave.

“It isn’t!” Crowley swallowed hard. Tears were prickling at the edges of his eyes. “You’ve no idea. It’s complicated…” He stood up and began to pace. “I’ve told you that you don’t need to be jealous of Gabriel. I haven’t touched him! So there’s no reason to resent the marriage, Zira. What’s a… a piece of paper compared to what we have? My heart is yours!”

The blonde gazed up at Crowley with undisguised anguish. “A piece of paper? You live in another man’s home. You’re on his arm when bidden. You aren’t mine nearly as much as you proclaim to be! How can you be? There’s a ring on your finger!”

“It doesn’t mean to me what you think it does,” Crowley countered, his frustration mounting.

“And why is that?” Zira snapped, losing his patience. “What the fuck kind of marriage do you have? How is it worth having? Do you even love him?”

Crowley rushed to Zira’s side and arrested his flailing hands, kissing both as tears fell freely between them. “Listen to me when I say you’re the only one that I love,” he begged. “Everything else is...it’s empty! Meaningless! You don’t understand!”

“Then explain it to me!” Zira shouted.

“I can’t!” Crowley shouted back. “I just told you that I loved you! Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Zira began to weep and Crowley immediately regretted everything, wrapping his arms around the blonde and drawing him close. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me now. I need you, Zira. I love you.”

Zira continued to whimper as Crowley pulled him into his lap on the sofa and kissed every tear from his face. They were both worn down, feeling trapped, and more miserable than ever. It didn’t seem like anything else could go wrong, and Zira wanted to laugh at the thought, but he didn’t get the chance.

Gabriel Archangel walked into the room, throwing down his briefcase on the marble floor. “Crowley…” he hissed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

-

Zira was certain his heart had stopped. He watched in mute shock as Crowley sprang up, body tensed for a fight.

“I knew it was someone but…” Gabriel shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Zira shrank back into the sofa, body trembling with fear. This was the day he’d been dreading from the start.

“Is this the part where I get lectured about discretion?” Crowley shot back. “I really don’t want to hear it from you, Gabriel. As if things EVER ended with you and Bee.”

Gabriel snapped to attention at the sound of his secretary’s name. “This isn’t the same.”

Zira wiped a hand down his face and attempted to move his legs, but they wouldn’t budge. “I should go,” he croaked out.

“No!” Crowley said, rounding on him. “You need to hear this!”

Zira hardly thought a tit for tat situation made everything they’d done okay, but he didn’t have it in him to protest. He withered on the spot, blinking away tears.

“You know I can’t tell him,” Crowley threatened as he faced his husband, “But if you don’t I’m going to make your life a living hell!”

Gabriel’s face registered shock and outrage. “That’s not part of the arrange-”

“The arrangement! OH NO! Anything but violate the BLOODY ARRANGEMENT!” Crowley shouted. “ND or no, I will find a way to rake you over the coals because I love this man! And I’m not going to lose him over this! You’d think someone like you, of all people, would understand!”

Gabriel blinked, the anger draining out of his face as he processed that. He collapsed into a nearby chair and huffed. “Fine but...he’ll need to sign as well,” he relented.

Crowley smiled triumphantly and lowered himself next to Zira, grasping one of his shaking hands. “Done,” he promised, not bothering to pre-empt the situation further.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes but spoke all the same. “About a year ago my secretary and I...you know Bee, of course...we were caught in an affair,” he began. Zira’s brows raised to Heaven.

“It wasn’t a good look with the higher ups,” his boss continued. “They were threatening to fire me for sleeping with a subordinate. Normally these things can be brushed aside… We were both consenting adults after all. But still upper management wasn’t satisfied. That’s when I began to craft a small deception to cover my tracks. I told them that I was engaged, and that my dalliance with Bee was in direct response to my fears about committing to the...the man I really loved.”

Zira’s jaw was hanging open. He knew that by positioning himself as a gay man, Gabriel had secured himself a defense to sue the company for discrimination. It was appalling.

“The only problem was I lacked that partner to fill the role,” Gabriel explained. “That’s where Crowley came in.”

Zira’s face snapped back and forth between Crowley’s and Gabriel’s. “So your entire marriage is a sham?”

“Precisely!” Crowley agreed enthusiastically. “The plan was to stay together for at least a year, when the marriage would tragically fall apart, leaving Gabriel in the clear.”

“And you participated in this? Willingly? Lying to everyone?” Zira could hardly believe what he was hearing.

Crowley tilted his head, surprised at the scorn in Zira’s voice. “I...I mean...yeah.”

Gabriel straightened himself up and towered over the redhead. “Remember what we said about messes. You’ve created one and you need to take care of it. Get him to sign, Crowley. You know the consequences if you don’t.”

With that, Gabriel turned on his heel and went to his bedroom, not even bothering to pick up his briefcase.

Crowley was practically giddy with having the secret off of his chest, and turned to Zira to further plead his case. “So you see, right? The non-disclosure prevented me from telling you even though I wanted to! I do love you, angel, and once this is all said and done we can be together the way we both want! Everything’s going to work out for us if you’re just patient-”

He moved to place a hand over Zira’s but the blonde flinched away. “This is insane,” he breathed. “I can’t believe you’ve sucked me into your deception!”

“But I…” Crowley didn’t seem to understand, his face revealing the slowly dawning realization that heartbreak was before him.

“What you’ve done is unconscionable!” the blonde continued, perhaps unburdening some of the guilt he should have been owning. “Not to mention at the detriment of actual gay couples! I knew something strange was happening, but this? I just...I don’t want to hear another word.”

He stood up and shook Crowley from his arm, leaving the redhead dumbstruck. “But Zira! Angel?”

Zira was already halfway to the door when he whipped around. “Tell Gabriel he doesn’t have to worry about his precious non-disclosure. I have no intention of ever repeating this miserable tale to anyone!”

“Please, ZIra, if you’ll just let me explain!” Crowley tried again, one hand reaching out in quiet desperation.

“No. No!” Zira replied. “That’s quite enough.” He nodded his head and stormed toward the door, slamming it on his way out.

-

Oscar rubbed Zira’s back as he emotionally bled out, two bottles of wine now empty on the floor. His husband Alfred sat next to him quietly on the sofa, arms crossed.

“What a tit,” Alfred commented. “But whoever said affairs ended well?”

Oscar shot his husband a look that wilted him on the spot. “What Alfred means to say is that he’s terribly sorry you were hurt.”

Zira glanced up from his spot on the floor. His eyes were so puffy he could barely blink. “Oh, I deserved it. I mean, even if it wasn’t a real affair I thought it was, which makes me as bad as him.”

“It doesn’t!” Oscar protested. “You never lied. He did.”

“I did lie,” Zira sniffed. “I told him I would repeat any of this to anyone.”

“Pff,” Alfred scoffed. “As if.”

Zira laughed, breaking from his miserable focus for a moment. “I’m glad you’re both here. I don’t think I could deal with this on my own. He keeps texting and calling every minute. What’s worse is that I’m tempted to answer!”

“For the record,” Alfred began cautiously, “The man did say he loved you. Correct?”

Zira shook his head at the ground. “And how am I supposed to believe that after everything else?”

“Yeah…” Alfred replied easily. “So do you?” Oscar shot him another look and Alfred threw his hands up in defense. “I’m just asking!”

Zira sighed heavily and stared at the empty fireplace. “I’m inclined to… But I don’t see how it matters either way. It’s over between us.”

“Mmkay,” Alfred placated. “I just didn’t know if you had those kinds of feelings too. Toward him.”

Oscar reached out and flicked Alfred’s ear when Zira wasn’t looking.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about him,” Zira admitted. “Even after the anger and the hurt fades away each night. I think about him.”

His non-answer was enough for Alfred and Oscar alike.

-

Work was awkward as fuck. Zira dodged his boss in the hallways and refused to meet his eyes during group meetings. Now that he knew the truth, he felt like Gabriel was watching his every move. Zira couldn’t help but realize the way Bee cuddled up to his manager either. How long had that been going on and he hadn’t even noticed? He felt like a colossal fool.

After an intolerably long work week, Zira thought he’d finally get some much needed rest and relaxation at home, but his doorbell rang shortly after five that Friday.

“Bugger all,” the blonde protested as he made his way to the door. “Coming!”

He was shocked to find Crowley on the other side, looking even more miserable than he did. He was clutching a handful of legal papers in his hand.

“Of course,” Zira nearly laughed, “Do come in.”

Crowley was surprised to be invited in, but took the opportunity quickly lest it be withdrawn. He stepped around the door and closed it behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he followed Zira to the kitchen. The blonde sat down heavily at the dining table and waved one hand in the air.

“For this or the lot?” he challenged.

Crowley blinked and his lower lip trembled. He stood awkwardly as if waiting to be told what to do. Zira relented, directing his hand toward the chair opposite him. The redhead sat down robotically.

“Erm...everything,” he replied. “Dragging you into all of it. I didn’t think it through.”

“What’s funny is all the guilt I felt,” Zira acknowledged. “I thought I was doing the wrong thing but it turned out I wasn’t...not in the way I imagined.”

Crowley made a few guttural noises as if trying to get his bearings in the conversation, but came up flat. Instead, he pushed the paperwork forward. It was the non-disclosure as Zira had assumed. He examined the document quietly before looking up at the redhead.

“Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly. “Go along with Gabriel on all of it?”

Crowley let out a long breath. “I was pretty desperate at the time. I’d just lost my job and had gotten into an accident. Was in the hospital for a while and the medical bills just kept adding up. My house and car got repossessed and I had no idea how I was going to start over again.  
And then along came Gabriel. He offered me a place to live, money to spend, everything I needed really, if I just pretended with him for a while. He explained about Bee and how they were in love, and I thought I could help him, you know? Like he was helping me. I thought I was doing the right thing but...it turned out I wasn’t.”

Zira’s eyes flashed as Crowley recycled his own words. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Then I met you and everything got complicated. I had to withhold things from you that ended up threatening our relationship. You wanted me to end a marriage that didn’t exist. And I’d signed the ND. That’s why I wanted Gabriel to tell you, of course. I don’t know why I didn’t realize what an effect that would have on you in the end. I naively thought you would be happy. That we could do things the right way round.”

Zira frowned at the document and Crowley shuffled for a moment before producing a pen. He set it in front of the blonde apologetically.

“What will happen to you if I don’t sign this?” he asked, looking up at the redhead.

Crowley flushed. “Mmm...nehh… Don’t worry about that. I thought you’d want to sign to smooth things over with Gabriel. Working together under the current conditions must be uncomfortable, to say the least. He’ll leave you alone after this.”

Zira tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m going to quit,” he revealed. “For those reasons, but I have my own as well. I’ve waited far too long to pursue other goals...things I enjoy.”

“Oh!” Crowley replied, a small smile daring to appear. “That’s good. I’m happy for you, for doing that.”

“So you see,” Zira went on, “There’s really no reason for me to sign this at all. I owe Gabriel nothing. He holds no power over me.”

Crowley nodded. “Yes, of course. I understand.” His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to take the pen back from the blonde, but Zira held it out of his reach.

“But he does hold power over you,” Zira said. Crowley flinched and tried to shrug it off.

He tried to imagine Crowley’s situation before Gabriel came along, and what things would look like for the redhead if Zira refused to sign. Who was the real bad guy in all of this? And did intentions, whether good or bad, ultimately count when the truth was revealed?

“When is this arrangement between the two of you set to end?” he asked.

Crowley blinked. “Um...three months.”

“Ah,” Zira replied. “Then I suppose I should give you my condolences on your forthcoming divorce.” He bent his head down and wrote out his flourishing signature before sliding the paper back toward the redhead.

Crowley looked uncertainly at the document as if trying to decipher its meaning. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

Zira continued to stare at him until Crowley grew agitated.

“I should get out of your hair,” the redhead admitted. He stood unsteadily and made his way to the door, pausing at the threshold. He nearly turned around, some unformed words attempting to spill their way out of his mouth, but they didn’t, and he didn’t.

Instead, he opened the door and kept his eyes on the ground. “Thank you Zira,” he said softly, and with that, he was gone.

Zira watched the door for a long time after, lost in his own thoughts.

-

Ninety days was a lot of time. It allowed for quite a bit of planning and upheaval, quitting one’s job, arranging a lease on commercial property, and filling it with merchandise. Ninety days was ample time to order a business sign, do some light renovations, and open a small bookstore one had always dreamed about. But was ninety days enough time to lick one’s wounds, to mend them, to become hopeful once more that hearts weren’t just for breaking? Zira found himself stuck on the puzzle.

The day the shop opened was just after a rain. The air was thick with humidity although the sun came out just enough to warm the chilly denizens of Soho. One walking amongst them stopped on the corner, hands shoved in their pockets as they looked up at a sign above a door.

“Oh,” Crowley said to himself. “He’s done it.” He felt a thrill of accomplishment even if it wasn’t his own. Something like pride filled his heart, soothing the jagged edges.

He could have kept walking. In fact, it was what he meant to do except he hadn’t made it across the street before he heard his name.

“Crowley!” Zira called out.

The redhead glanced up to see the shopkeeper hopping from one foot to the next and waving his arms. “I say there, Crowley! Wait a tic!”

Crowley cringed as Zira crossed the street heedless of cars. Fearing for his safety, Crowley stepped out and signaled one of the oncoming taxis to a stop, narrowly missing the blonde.

“Get yourself killed!” Crowley hissed. The redhead grasped his arms and pulled him back up to the pavement.

“Oh,” Zira said, just realizing the danger. “It’s just that I saw you out here from the window in my shop.” He pointed toward the bookstore and Crowley’s eyes widened.

“Right,” Zira hurried on. “I saw you and I realized that you weren’t going to come inside. And suddenly I recognized that I would have liked it very much if you did. To be honest I’ve given a lot of thought to our parting and...unconventional union while it lasted. Perhaps I was a bit too hasty in my judgement of your part in all of it, and less severe on myself than I should have been. What I mean to say, Crowley, is that I’ve been thinking about what you said. What it could be like if we tried things the right way round? I’d like to try and I’d like to be with you my dear. Because I think you shouldn’t give up on the people you love.”

Zira had talked himself ragged at this point, but bit down on his tongue to keep from going any further. Crowley hadn’t made any noticeable reaction to his words up to that point, and he was starting to fear that he never would until the redhead blinked.

A raindrop had skittered down from the sky, landing on one of his freckled cheeks.

“Love…” Crowley said, his voice rough around the edges. “You’re bringing that into the equation now?”

Zira’s face collapsed and his hands came up in front of his body. “Well I can’t bloody well leave it out. Not with you.”

Crowley let out a bark of nervous laughter and covered his face. A few more raindrops hit the pavement around their bodies. “Do you mean it?” he asked, hiccuping through his fingers.

The blonde looked puzzled. “About trying again or the fact that I’m in love with you?”

Crowley sobbed and Zira took the opportunity to hug the man within an inch of his life. At that moment the sky broke open all over again, sending down a cold deluge of refreshing rain.

“Come my dear!” Zira urged as he pulled on Crowley’s coat. This time neither man took any notice of the traffic, which was fortunately slowed by the downpour. They raced across the street and into the safety of Zira’s bookshop, the owner deftly flipping his open sign to ‘closed’ before shutting the door.

For a moment neither man spoke and then Zira reached for Crowley’s coat, drawing it off and placing it on the rack by the door. With infinite care, he cupped the redhead’s face and admired him tenderly.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, placing a delicate kiss on Crowley’s cheek.

“I...I thought I’d lost you,” Crowley admitted.

“No,” the blonde corrected him. “Never.”

The sound of thunder echoed through the shop like a starter gun, and suddenly the two men were a whirl of limbs and mouths, each pressing into the other as if they couldn’t get close enough. Crowley let out a shuddering cry as Zira pulled him to the ground, and there wasn’t a doubt in either of their minds that this wouldn’t get done right here, right now on the bare baseboards.

Zira’s teeth scraped down the side of Crowley’s neck as he fumbled with their belts. Soon enough, both were stripped from the waist down and Zira wasted no time flipping the redhead over to his hands and knees.

“Ohh Crowley,” Zira moaned as he dove in, tongue slipping between the redhead’s cheeks.

Crowley couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling out of his mouth, his knees already aching from the hardwood floor, but he wasn’t complaining. The pain felt as good as the pleasure.

And then Zira was exploring him, opening him up and whispering things that made his head spin. “You’re mine, Crowley,” and “I’ll make you feel it.”

Crowley’s nails dug into the floor as Zira slipped inside of him, and after a few harsh thrusts he was being turned onto his back.

“Need to see you,” Zira said as he kissed him, sliding back in almost too easily, like he lived there.

“Angel!” Crowley begged, ripping at the buttons on their shirts to expose more skin. Crowley’s chest rose and fell with Zira’s thrusts and it was all too much. His toes were curling under the assault.

“I love you,” Crowley promised, a hand pushing at Zira’s chest with no intention of keeping him away. The resistance sparked Zira’s primal instinct to claim, and he redoubled his efforts as he took what he wanted, what he’d always wanted.

“Crowley!” Zira gasped, nearing the precipice but unwilling to go over alone. “Oh please!”

The redhead reached down and touched himself, wet from the rain and the sweat and his own precome. Zira’s eyes trailed down and the sight of Crowley’s fingers wrapped around his cock while Zira fucked into him brought him over. Crowley came undone at the last, still feeling Zira pulsing inside of him.

-

365 days isn’t even near enough time to tell someone you love them in every way possible. Bookshop cuddles, gasping in the dark, taking trip after trip to Paris to remember the initial shape of desire. Visiting book fairs near and far, drinking coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon, holding hands while walking in the park. The truth is that there are so many ways to say I love you without words, and that’s the tricky part about trying to take on an inexhaustible endeavor. Luckily for Zira and Crowley, however, 365 days is just enough time to start. And a lifetime to follow.


End file.
